While strolling through the mall, I saw a 3-year-old girl physically assaulting the Easter Bunny. I know. You think a 3-year-old girl doesn’t possess the physical strength to assault the Easter Bunny. You could never be more wrong. Powerful memories flooded my mind. I’m glad I’m alive to tell the tale. The bunny tale.

It was the spring of 1995. My husband and I were happily living in 480 square feet of cinder block heaven, otherwise known as married student housing at Stephen F. Austin State University. We had just gotten approved by our adoption agency and were excitedly making plans for our first child’s arrival, even though we weren’t sure when he or she would arrive.

We were pinching our pennies until they screamed. Family members and friends were even donating toward our adoption costs. That’s when the local mall manager approached us with an offer too good to be true. $1000 cold hard cash. Unless she expected us to rob a bank or scam old ladies, we were in.

The mission was simple. During a three-week period Phil and I would be the Easter Bunny and photographer at the mall. The pictures I take are always blurry, so Phil would take the pictures and I was left, well, with the bunny suit. When it comes to being the Easter Bunny, there are hard and fast rules, friend. The Easter Bunny doesn’t speak. Ever. He doesn’t eat the free chocolate candy (well, not much of it). And above all? Above all, the Easter Bunny is not allowed to assault small children. I mean, how hard could this be?

I learned a lot in the spring of 1995. Not about children. Not about bunnies and not about free chocolate. I learned a lot about parents. The following scenario was repeated over and over again.

A small child would scream, gasp, and kick as a parent approached me. Phil, desiring to protect his young wife, would often say something like, “Well, looks like this might not be the day for a picture, Ma’am. Maybe when she gets a little older she won’t be afraid.”

But no. The parent would fling that horrified toddler in my lap like a shot put. “Here, Suzie. Sit in the bunny’s lap and get your picture made.”

Guess what? Scared toddlers scream at a decibel that would scare Stephen King. Oh, and that free chocolate candy? It was smeared into my pastel bunny tie while chubby toddler claws tried to rip the heart out of my chest. All the while, the parent would be saying, “Suzie, quit! Suzie, straighten up! That bunny’s gonna get you!”

But see, that’s the problem. The Easter bunny wasn’t allowed to “get” Suzie without going to jail. Phil kindly and enthusiastically encouraged Suzie’s mama to “get” Suzie out of my lap so the large bunny wouldn’t commit a felony. What a guy.

Phil and I made $1000 in the spring of 1995. It wasn’t easy. But the beautiful baby boy we adopted the next January? He was more than worth it. Happy Easter!